Like Nothing
by Wallwalker
Summary: Harami finds out what it means to live without honor in Tarna.


I didn't think much of it after they kicked me out of the council chamber. I walked right past that blond kid, and I think I even smiled.

Ain't like that was the first time I'd been kicked outta a city, and that's all it felt like. They said that the Honorless couldn't be acknowledged. Fine by me, I figured. Next best thing to being invisible, and I spent most of my life invisible. Or might've well have been, anyhow. Besides, Tarna was a soft city. I couldn't believe that people hadn't robbed 'em blind already, if that was the worst punishment they could come up with.

Just had to bide my time, I figured, until this war stuff blew over. Then the caravans would come back, and I could get back home and lay low for a while. Things were supposed to be better in Raseir now anyway; maybe I could finally make a dishonest living back there.

Easy, right?

* * *

They threw me out of an inn last night.

I dunno how they'd found me. I'd snuck in while they were dealing with a couple of drunk, slumming Liontaurs. Apparently bein' a jerk to someone who didn't deserve it was still considered honorable enough to not need a slap on the wrist. I didn't need that much time, just long enough to grab some coin, maybe some food... I couldn't be the only guy stuck here, right? And I'd need that money to bribe somebody if things got bad, because I sure as hell wasn't gonna _work_ for a caravan, and they aren't that easy to hide in. Sauruses ain't smart, but they've got good noses.

Anyway, I figured it'd be fine. I hadn't heard any kind of crying in the streets, and it hadn't been that long since I'd been... I dunno, condemned to whatever kind of punishment this was supposed to be. How'd they even know what had happened to me? No way they sent anyone all over town to tell 'em about one petty thief. I could even lift enough to pay for a meal and a room, if I was on top of things. Might as well get a last meal and a decent nap, even if they did kick me out whenever word got around.

But I didn't get a chance to do _any_ of that. I dunno how they knew. Maybe somebody was usin' magic to watch the place - damned hypocrites, wasn't using magic in the city against their precious code? All I know is some big guy grabbed me. He didn't talk to me, didn't even look at my face, just dragged me to the back and pushed me out.

"Hey!" I yelled at the guy, turning around to see his face, tripping over my own feet in the process. "What do you think you're doin, treatin' a customer like -" Then I saw the guy's face, and there was just this... I can't describe it.

My father'd had to deal with those when I was young - you didn't wanna kill 'em, they were so pathetic when they started moaning and shaking in the sand. But you had to, because the shakes would spread to the entire herd, if you didn't shoot 'em and bury 'em outside the city and and purify the hell outta yourself before you even looked at another saurus again. And that look my father'd had on his face when he had to take 'em out in the desert... I'd never forget it. So pitiful.

That's how that man looked at me. And I just froze, because I didn't know what to do, and the guy turned away. Didn't say a word, just turned and shut the door behind him.

I didn't spend a lotta time thinkin' about it, though. I couldn't. I'd just have to figure something else out later. Lift some clothes, give myself a shave... maybe I could hide who I was well enough to pass for somebody they wouldn't look at like that.

I hoped so. I really did.

I slept in the alleys that night. Wasn't that uncomfortable; the weather's not so bad there. Reminded me of home.

* * *

The next couple of days were just more of the same.

I tried the shave, although I didn't exactly have a decent knife - my face looked like it'd been clawed up by a Katta, but I figured it'd help hide who I was. And I managed to find some decent-looking old robes to wear. Still, I looked pretty different when I looked at myself. Figured it might help.

No such luck. Somehow everybody still knew I was a criminal, and nobody talked to me. Didn't mean they couldn't let me know I wasn't wanted, though. I got pushed and pulled every way in that city, wherever I went. One kid even pushed me in the water - and nobody said a damn word, not even the kid's mom, who was right next to him! Damn good thing an old acquaintance of mine taught me to swim in Silmaria, 'cuz I would've drowned if I hadn't. You don't get a lot of chances to learn how to swim, growing up in a desert.

I'll be honest; I had some nasty words for the kid. But then he wouldn't even look at me. No one would, even when I called 'em the worst names I could remember. And I remember a lot.

I won't lie, though. It was startin' to get to me. I might've been street trash in Raseir after I left home, but they don't _ignore_ street trash there. Sure, most of the time it was threats or whatever, but that's better than bein' ignored; people only threaten you if somewhere, deep down inside, they're scared of you.

This was crazy. I couldn't be the only poor bastard in the city who was being treated like this, right? I had to try to find someone to talk to. Right now all I heard were rumors, and pretty wild stuff. That crazy dog-guy in the bazaar told somebody about how the great Prince of Shapeir was in town with the King's brother and they were both tryin' to talk the King out of a war. That had to be something somebody made up, 'cuz since when did the old sultan have a son? And how could've he have gotten there in the first place, if the caravans weren't moving?

Yeah, I admit it, I was curious. But I couldn't exactly ask for details. I was too busy keepin' myself alive, and I thought I was doin' okay. Managed to scrape up enough food to get by, and I'd even grabbed some money for when I got out. Maybe there really was some kinda dignitary tryin' to stop the war, and the caravans would come back. That sounded real good to me.

* * *

It was just a few days later when things got really bad. And I mean _really_ bad, as in shuddering under an old piece of sailcloth, holdin' my breath, hopin' no one had noticed me bad. I'd gotten what I'd wanted. I'd found somebody else who shared my predicament.

I never should've come to this damn city. I should've burned that damn caravan before it even arrived her. I should've...

Okay. Okay. Here's how it happened.

I was scavenging in the bazaar again, right? Good spot to do it, so long as I stay away from the moneylender booths. Lots of people, and lots of places to hide. Things were still rough, but I was survivin'. I was still managing to nab a few coins, too. Not bad, I figured, considerin' I was trapped in a city where everyone inexplicably knew who I was and hated me.

I don't know how it started. I didn't head over until after I heard the screaming, figured it'd make a good distraction. Always easier to steal from people who weren't paying attention, right?

Turned out it was a guy in rags, and from the look of it he'd lost it. Tall, skinny dark guy - I dunno how I missed him before. Important thing, though, was the way the crowd was lookin' at him... or wasn't lookin', I should say. I knew exactly what those expressions meant.

I didn't catch all of what he said. Enough, though. "You did this to me!" the man was screaming as I got close enough to make it out. "I may never escape this city, but I can make you pay -"

And after that...

After that...

It was so _fast._ One minute he was on his feet, next minute... I dunno who it was. Might've been a soldier or a guard, might've just been some guy. I didn't see a uniform, but that doesn't always mean much. Anyway, somebody grabbed him by the hair, knocked the old knife out of his hand. Guy was screaming as they dragged him away, still out for blood.

Maybe I shouldn't have followed 'em. They took him way out, outside of the bazaar, downriver from most of the city. And I followed 'em, because by then... I just wanted to see how it ended. This was the first time I'd seen anybody else in this fix, and I wanted to know what they were going to do to him.

It ended with the guy bleeding in the water. Stranger cut his throat and pushed him in.

They killed him. They dragged him away to be killed, and no one cared. He wasn't a person to them anymore, he had no honor, he wasn't _important._

So... I finally did the smart thing. I ran like hell.

I hid out for a long time. I was too damn scared to come out. All those times I'd kept stealing, tryin' to get enough to get out... anybody could've just killed me, if they'd caught me. And nobody would've cared. Nobody had even looked the least bit upset. If anything, they'd been relieved!

I couldn't steal anymore. I couldn't risk it. Least back at home you had a fighting chance, you had people who'd back you up, but this? No. This was being nothing. Less than an animal, 'cuz you wouldn't kill an animal in the street in front of everybody, would you? Not even my father would do that!

I was doomed this whole time. I just hadn't known it yet.

* * *

The body was gone when I finally came out for air. Maybe they tied a rock to it or something, and it sank.

It didn't matter. I was done. All I had was what I could scavenge - a few scraps of meat, that was it. And there wasn't any talk of this war not happening anymore, so I wasn't gonna be leaving.

I'd been stupid. Of course a city like this wouldn't be so rich if stealin' were easy. I let my greed get the better of me, and now I was trapped. Only shot I had was to find somebody who'd give me the time of day, and I hadn't met anybody yet. Except for... that kid! The blond kid, the one who'd helped the guards catch me and got me into this situation in the first place! I had to find him. Maybe he'd listen to me, even though he put me here. Maybe he actually realized how _wrong_ all of this was.

It was a long shot, but it was the only shot I had. I had to find him. And he... he had to help me.

* * *

 _A/N: I've had feelings about this character's situation for a long, long time. Some of my old fic attempts might still exist online, if only on archiving sites... I haven't hunted for them._

 _It's not that I don't think what happens in Tarna isn't bad enough; forced isolation must get under your skin. But what happens when someone who is already Honorless breaks the rules again? I wrote this to try to reconcile those two thoughts, try to figure out what might happen... I'm sure it's darker than the creators ever intended._

 _As for why everyone seems to know, I think there must be some sort of ritual marking done so that people can tell. Liontaurs seem fond of ritual magic, and having some kind of supernatural mark visible to residents makes more sense than assuming that every resident of a city (a fairly big one too, probably bigger than could be rendered) was shown this guy's picture and told not to deal with him. More sense to me, at least._


End file.
